What the hell happened?
by One Shot Glory
Summary: postRENT Mark thinks back to the years following Rogers song. ONESHOT; Better than it sounds. While I was reading it today I found quite a few grammar mistakes so I went in and fixed them


**I don't own anything RENT.**

**Enjoy my story D **

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Your probably wondering what the hell happened…I ask myself that everyday. What the hell happened? Where did all the time go? Where does time go after we use it? If Collins were still here he would have the answer. 

Collins always had the answers, to everything. When Roger was sick, he used to ask Collins questions that scared the shit out of me but seemed normal to them. Like, Where will I go when I die? Wherever I go will I get to see Mimi, Angel, and April? And then one time I remember him asking: When I die and see Mimi and April will the fight over me?

Collins laughed for a half hour over that damn question. I couldn't help but smile.

Roger stuck around for a while just as Mimi did. Mimi died about 2 years after Roger sang her his song. Her death was bittersweet; I know that sounds kind of mean…. I loved Mimi, everyone did, but she was suffering so much. We loved her but we knew it was selfish to want to keep her here on this painful Earth.

She died of course, but this time Roger was different. He didn't lock himself in his room and sleep all day. He lived for her. He had finally gotten it through his pretty little head that not living because someone had died would not bring them back.

Mimi kept Roger alive. Her spirit was in him. He held on tight for three fucking long years. Then it all changed. Collins died. It was so unexpected the day before he died Roger, him, and me went down to Central Park and watched the little kids run around. Seems kind of creepy, eh?

The next day when we woke up we found Collins lying on the floor in the middle of the loft barely hanging onto life. When the paramedics finally got there it was too late. Collins was with his Angel wherever the hell we go after we die.

Roger spiraled downward. It was a replay of him losing April all over again. He used to come into my room while I was sleeping and get into bed with me and cry himself to sleep. It was so hard to see him like that.

I specifically remember one day while I was sitting at the small metal table eating a bowl of cereal Roger came and sat by me. He looked at me with a sad look on his face and said, "Thank you Mark. For everything. You were such a good friend. You helped me through so much and I gave you so much hell but you never left. You never left."

"Roger, how could I ever leave?"

"After I die and you find a woman weird enough to marry you and start popping out little Marks, name one after me?"

"Alright."

"Name him Roger Collins Angel Cohen. It will be a great kid. An AIDS infected gay anarchist guitarist teaching drag queen," Roger smiled a sad smile at me.

I knew then and there that our time together was limited. Roger knew too.

A month and a half later he left me. I knew that the last thing in the world Roger would want me to do was turn into him. The man that ran away and hid from every ounce of pain ever handed to him. So I went on. I tried to stay strong. I enrolled in a couple film classes at the nearby community college and got a chance to go to Africa to help film a documentary with my class about the AIDS epidemic. Still to this day I wonder why we went to help Africa's AIDS epidemic when we have one right here in New York to think about.

Well, I went, I knew Roger would want me to, and I got some really really great footage. I knew it wasn't as great as the other students who had their fancy ass cameras and I was here with my vintage Bolex. But when we got back home and showed some people all of our different footage, they wanted mine. They payed me 100,000 fucking dollars for it.

You would think everything would change after that right? Wrong. I considered getting a nicer apartment but if didn't seem right. I knew that I wanted to die here just as April, Mimi, Roger, and Collins all had.

That soon went down the drain when Benny went through with his plan to turn it into a cyber studio.

I got an apartment in downtown New York. I continued selling my footage to film companies. My life finally felt normal and it made me feel guilty. Why couldn't I had done that when Roger was still alive? I could have taken better care of him. But, forget regret or life is yours to miss.

Then, I met her. Claire Renee Walker. My god was she beautiful. She had the prettiest red hair, though Roger would have fought that Aprils was prettier, and the most beautiful color of green eyes. I feel instantly in love with her.

At first we were just good friends. I introduced her to Maureen and Joanne (who were still together, surprising I know) and they all hit it off. She fit right into my life and I fit into hers. Her parents loved me and my parents hated her so it all worked out.

We got married. It was just a small wedding at the same church that we held Angel, Mimi, Collins, and Rogers funerals. I sang her Rogers song. I knew he wouldn't mind, but if he were here he would have hit me over the head for singing it Baritone.

Maureen and Joanne moved to Scarsdale to raise there family that consisted of two little girls adopted from Russia and Claire and I followed suit.

It was weird being back in my old hometown but I knew that it was best. I missed the hustle and bustle of the street and I couldn't sleep at night because it was too quiet. But, after awhile I became accustom to it.

Some people would probably feel as though I was forgetting everything. That I was putting my New York life behind me. Which is utterly untrue. I was just starting a new chapter in my life. Once a month I would take a train into New York and visit the new residents at the loft. They were nice, but they weren't Roger, Collins, and me. Then, I would head out to Oakland Cemetery and individually go talk to Mimi, Collins, Angel, Roger, and sometimes April.

About 3 months after moving to Scarsdale Claire became pregnant. We were ecstatic to say the least. Nine months later popped out a healthy 7 pounds 4 ounce little boy.

Roger Thomas Angel Cohen.

He was and still is beautiful. Now 2 years old and accompanied by a newborn sister Mia "Mimi' Claire Cohen.

As I sit here and tell you this story Little Rog is sitting on the floor poking the strings of his mini guitar and my beautiful wife is feeding my beautiful baby girl.

At night I lie in bed and wonder what Roger would think about this. About me having a normal life with normal kids and a normal wife. When he was alive he probably wouldn't have liked it but I know that no he is watching me with happiness and making sure that I don't fuck up.

A lot has changed over the past 7 or so years, but I know that deep inside me somewhere the poor, freezing bohemian still sits there waiting to be broken out.

Maybe one day. He will come back out. Maybe one day I'll take Claire, Little Rog, and tiny baby Mimi to Life café and show them how well there old man can dance on tables. Maybe one day.

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**Reviews please...**


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